


Roomies

by lunabee34 (Lorraine)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Coming Out, Developing Relationship, Ensemble Cast, Episode Related, First Time, M/M, basement fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-04
Updated: 2009-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-04 03:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorraine/pseuds/lunabee34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander discovers the love that dare not speak its name.  There's an apocalypse, naturally, and some tasteful male nudity.  The only caveat is that in this world, Anya and Spike never slept together.  [Spoilers for <i>Peacekeeper Wars</i>]</p><p>Lorraine's first fanfic.  [Literally sitting on my hands to preserve this as it was originally written LOL]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roomies

Xander heard voices in the street to his left. Then he saw Buffy running away toward her home and Spike on his knees in the wet road.

"I did it for her, to be hers, I'm hers . . . and she just left. Not a word. Not a sodding word." Spike held his head in his hands, suddenly aware that he was not alone in the alley. "What d'you want, Xander? Come to gloat, eh? Still not good enough for her, for any of you—I know it."

"What the hell are you talking about, Spike. You did what for her?" Xander leaned down close to him, his hands around the ubiquitous Scooby-issue stake. "Spike, did you try to hurt Buffy again?" Xander demanded.

"No . . . No! I didn't . . . I did before, and now this . . . thing . . . inside me just bleeds. It screams and . . . there's nothing to show for it. Stake me, just bloody stake me. I'll float down so many ashes, and she will forgive. Stake me, stake me, stake me," Spike sobbed over and over again, even reaching out to touch the other man's arm.

Xander flinched. Something was wrong with Spike beyond his evil-undead-I-tried-to-rape-your-best-friend-and-then-lost-my-marbles condition. Spike never touched him, except to scrape him off the ground after the latest demon had flung him there. Spike never cried or begged or pleaded, except when Buffy died, and not even Xander could hold that against him.

Spike was still babbling, his blonde head held between his slim hands. "How can it burn me when I'm so fucking cold?"

Xander could hear footsteps in the alleyway drawing nearer. He was relieved to see Anya round the corner instead of something more sinister. Not that he found many things less sinister than Anya these days.

"The boyfriend will recover. The paramedics said he may lose some function in the muscles affected, but he won't die." The vengeance demon looked uncomfortable. Xander thought, _probably all the giving a shit she's done tonight_.

"What's wrong with Spike, Anya?" he asked. "You know something. He wouldn't have gone all gameface and tried to rip you in half if you didn't know something."

Anya walked to where Spike crouched beneath Xander and lifted the vampire's head to see into his eyes. Spike squirmed and looked away. Anya let his head drop but kept her hands on his shoulders. "He has a soul, Xander. I don't know how he got it. It couldn't have been easy. But he did. Can't you see it in his eyes, shining?"

Xander felt his voice approach the squeakiness he usually reserved for apocalypses that involved death and dismemberment. "Great, just what this world needs, another broody McVamprick with a soul. He can't even mope properly like Angel. No, Spike's gotta crawl around in school basements and try to claw himself to death."

Anya looked at him like she looked at customers who asked for full refunds thirty-one days after the sale. "It's not a joking matter, Xander. You take your soul for granted. It's always been a part of you. Not having a soul is the embodiment of emptiness. It's like a till with no money inside. You put in other things—vengeance and blood and lust, but underneath, still the emptiness. Spike fought against the demon within him to make this happen." Anya took her hands off Spike's shoulders and pulled him standing. "Xander, take him home. I remember what it felt like after my soul came rushing back into my body after so many years. I could hardly stand to breathe or move. He can't do this alone. He's been your roommate before. Maybe you'll freak him out less than everyone else." Xander started to object. "It doesn't matter what he did before. He's saved your life, mine, Dawn's. He's helped save the world. He gets a real chance at redemption now. He's obviously sorry for his past. Just look at him, Xander. He's itching to impale himself on Mr. Pointy."

Xander looked; it was true. Spike kept glancing at the stake in Xander's hand as he listened to the demon and her ex-lover discuss him as if he weren't even there. The man felt torn. He hated Spike. He hated Spike almost more than he hated Angel. When Xander thought of Spike, he thought only of a monster, a demon. He hated Spike for loving Buffy and Dawn in spite of what he was. He hated Spike for being so damn annoying all the time. Mostly, he hated Spike for doing all these things while seeming so . . . human. But maybe Anya was right; maybe Spike did deserve the chance to atone for what he'd done. Maybe Xander would feel better with Spike tied to a chair in his apartment where he couldn't hurt Buffy, or anyone else.

Xander sighed and put the stake back in his pocket. He took Spike by the arm and led him down the alley. The vampire didn't speak. He followed Xander with his head hung low, his hands slack at his sides. His profile in the moonlight was pale and wet with tears.

***

Buffy looked down at the sleeping Spike. "Are you sure you want to keep him here, Xander? I don't think he can hurt you; he's still chipped. But he can't be very good company."

Xander snorted. "I'm not keeping him here for his company Buff. I want to make sure he's not going to hurt anyone . . . or himself." Buffy looked at him in surprise. "Anya made me feel sorry for him," Xander explained.

Buffy kind of laughed. "She must've really said something to make you feel sorry for William the Bloody." Xander shrugged. "If you change your mind, I can always help you drop him back by the school basement. The only thing he can hurt there is the vermin. Just be careful. Even with a soul, Spike is dangerous." The blond turned on her heel and left her friend's apartment to patrol.

Almost as soon as Buffy left Xander's apartment, Spike began to moan from where he lay on the couch. Xander had decided the vampire didn't need to be physically restrained since his chip apparently still functioned. The pale form writhed on the sofa, the hard muscles in his body tensing and spasming.

"Silly bint. Why do they always turn their ankles? Blood, blood on my hands," and then Spike laughed, a choking, gasping laugh that turned to sobs.

Xander shook the sleeping vampire. "Um . . . Spike. Wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Suddenly, those blue eyes were open and fixed on his own. "I killed her, Xander. It was just like a bleeding movie. She ran through the house with nothing but her skivvies on, and I chased her. And then she tripped. Fucking tripped. I would have caught her anyway." His voice broke. "But the stupid bitch tripped, and I tore out her throat, and gave her body to Dru to play dolly with."

Xander stared at Spike. The vampire looked at him through lashes thick with tears. Xander didn't quite know what to say. "Sorry you were an evil monster that did reprehensible, hell worthy things, and even though you have a soul, I still hate you," didn't seem to cut it. He licked his lips and struggled to find something even remotely comforting to say. "Spike, you can't undo the past. You're going to have to get over it." Not particularly soothing, but better than his initial impulse. When the vampire continued sobbing, Xander sat down beside him. To his surprise, Spike reached for him. Xander stiffened, but let the other man cry on his shoulder. When he had stopped crying, Xander got up from the couch and crossed the apartment to his room. Spike's voice stopped him.

"Xander, I'm scared to be alone." Xander looked at Spike. He could see real fear, anger, embarrassment, and pain in the vampire's eyes. He knew that admission had cost Spike. He sighed, yet again. Xander could sense he would be doing a lot of that in the coming days.

"Okay, come on in here then. I'll fix you a place on the floor in my room. Just don't try anything. If you even look like you're up to mischief, I will stake you." Xander dragged the mattress from the guest room into his room and threw the bedding from the couch on top of it. Leaving Spike to sort out his bed, Xander climbed into his own and shut off the lights. Before he fell asleep, he heard the vampire whisper, "Thank you," into the darkness.

***

It had been a week since that night in the alley. Spike and Xander had settled into an uneasy routine. The vampire slept from about four in the morning to four in the afternoon each day. He had horrible nightmares that woke them both in the early morning hours and often degenerated into incoherent ramblings when he was awake. Xander worried about leaving him alone in the apartment all day while he was at the construction site, but saw no alternative.

Something had changed fundamentally for Xander in the days since he brought Spike home. It actually bothered him that the vampire might stake himself or open the curtains to the noonday sun. Xander felt invested in Spike's redemption in a way he never had been when the undead in question was Angel. Why, he wasn't entirely certain. He still hated things about Spike, but he could now admit to himself that the vampire had always been extraordinarily feeling for a fiend from hell. He could let himself realize that Spike really had cared for Joyce, that his bunch of flowers was not a ruse to bag the Slayer, but a heartfelt token for a woman who'd treated him like a man. He could admit that Spike's love for Buffy was real, as was his unswerving devotion to Dawn. Hell, his love for Drusilla had been real. Xander could even admit that they hadn't told Spike about resurrecting Buffy because they knew his love for her would never allow him to gamble with her soul that way, even though he dreamed of having her alive again. Xander had felt these things at the times they happened as well. He just didn't want to see it. Spike's humanity had been too much for him to deal with. Spike was complex in a way Angel never had been for Xander. Xander had never once lost sleep over Deadboy's feelings. But from the beginning, Spike had gotten under his skin. He did things demons weren't supposed to—like love and laugh.

Xander turned the key in the lock after a long day at the site. A subtle mistake in the blueprints that had cost his team a whole day's work and an annoying amount of tearing down and rebuilding. The carpenter was more bone-weary than he remembered being in a long time. He really wanted to just drink some beer and mindlessly watch television before falling to sleep. But he never knew which version of Spike he was going to get. _The suicidal one, apparently_, he thought as he opened the door to find Spike standing before the bay windows, arms outstretched to open the curtains.

"Spike, don't!" Xander tackled the vampire to the ground. Spike looked at him as if he was the one who'd lost his marbles.

"Wasn't gonna do anything drastic, mate. There's a spider nesting there in the corner. Can't abide the crawlies. Not since Africa. One of the tests was . . . I just can't stand the buggers anymore." Spike picked up the shoe he'd been holding before and smashed the arachnid.

"Sorry." Xander was embarrassed that he'd mistaken the situation, but what did Spike expect? Xander walked to the fridge and noticed distinctly more beer than he remembered seeing last night before he went to bed. "Hey, you got more beer. Thanks. I didn't know you'd left."

"Last night. While you were sleeping. I couldn't sleep myself. Creature of the night, ya know."

"Spike, even Sunnyhell has liquor laws. Where'd you get this beer?" Xander tried to look disapproving, but he could tell the vampire saw through his act.

"Relax, Harris. Demon bloke runs the Conoco on the corner. He sells beer to the beasties all hours of the night." Spike pretended to be offended at Xander's question, or so Xander hoped.

Xander smiled and said, "Thanks. Hey, you wanna watch _The Peacekeeper Wars_? I taped it last night while I was at the Scooby meeting."

He was surprised when Spike answered, "You mean _Farscape_? Bloody right, mate. Can't believe those bastards could end it with Crichton and Aeryn blown to bits. I didn't know they were making more. Haven't paid much attention to the telly lately."

Xander grinned again and started the tape after he'd loaded every snack imaginable, including a mug of blood, onto the coffee table and dumped all the beer into a mini-cooler beside the couch. "What?" he said at Spike's raised eyebrow. "Like I'm gonna want to pause this."

Xander was having a great time. The miniseries was spectacular. He felt the tension in his body settle to one small knot in his lower back. He had to say he was enjoying watching Spike watch the miniseries more than he was enjoying the show itself. Spike was the perfect focus group. He squealed with glee when Scorpius killed "that traitor bitch," almost snorted blood out his nose when Crichton took the baby out of Rigel, teared-up in a manly and secretive way when D'Argo died. When the credits rolled, Xander stretched and said, "I know it's Saturday and all tomorrow, or today, but I've gotta turn in."

"G'night then." Spike picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels.

Xander fell easily and dreamlessly into sleep. About five, he woke with a start. Something was wrong. He glanced at the floor next to his bed. Spike's pallet was unrumpled, unslept in. He heard soft moaning coming from the living room. Xander padded on bare feet to the couch, where Spike was curled in the fetal position. The vampire kept repeating, "Sorry, sorry, sorry." When he noticed Xander's presence, Spike became more agitated. "Didn't mean to. Didn't mean to. Don't make me leave."

Xander was perplexed. _What is Spike talking about?_ He looked around the room and noticed an overturned mug of blood on a blanket on the floor. He sighed in relief and compassion.

"Spike, look. It's okay. Nothing got on the floor. It would be okay even if it did. I'm not gonna kick you out 'cause you're messy. I mean, did you see my room?"

The vampire let him lead him into the bedroom. Xander tucked Spike into his bed and turned to climb into his own. Before he could, Spike grabbed his arm and held on with barely contained strength. "I don't know why you do this, Harris. Let me stay here. Nobody else would, 'cept maybe Dawn. I know you hate me. Spent a fair bit of time hating you back. Don't hate you anymore. Sort feel like you're a chum." Spike looked at Xander earnestly.

Xander sat beside him on the bed and thought of what to say to his roommate. "I don't hate you, Spike, not anymore. Even before, when I did hate you, I hated you because you were too human. A little too close for comfort, if you know what I mean."

"And now you pity me," Spike said bitterly.

"No," Xander shot back. "I admire you. You are the only demon I've ever heard of who asked for his soul back. Not even Prince Angel did that."

Spike muttered something dark and unintelligible. Xander thought he could make out the words "bastard" and "Scourge of Europe, my ass." "Whatever you said, if it's about Angel, I wholeheartedly agree." Spike managed a rueful smile.

"G'night, Xander."

"Night, Spike."

***

Xander walked into the Magic Box. All the gang was there except Buffy. The Slayer was out patrolling solo. The Hellmouth had been blessedly quiet lately, so no one had accompanied her. Nothing was on the agenda for the evening, but the Scoobies gathered in the shop most evenings to socialize.

"Hey, Willow. What's up?" Xander sat in the chair next to his best friend who stared intently at the _New York Times_ crossword.

"What's a five-letter word for complex?"

"Spike," Xander answered, without thinking.

Willow looked at Xander. "Complex, huh? I wondered how this roomie thing was going."

"It's not bad, Will. We actually get along pretty well when Spike's not going psycho."

"And that is how often?" Willow asked tentatively.

"Not as much now. At first, I was worried he was gonna stake himself, but he seems to be coming out of it."

"You really care what happens to him, don't you?"

"Yeah, I really do. It's weird. I've gone from his mortal to enemy to his babysitter. Bizarro world."

Willow smiled. "I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. You're the best judge of character I know, Xander, despite all the going on dates with evil demony types. If you say Spike's changed, he's changed. Let's not tell Buffy I said that, though. She has a blind spot where Spike's concerned. All she's been able to talk about this week is when Spike's gonna turn on you and how much she'll enjoy staking him."

"Buffy doesn't know what she's talking about, Willow. Being the Slayer forces her to think in shades of black and white that don't apply to the rest of us. It's killing Spike that she hasn't been to see him. He thought this soul would matter to her, but it doesn't."

"Maybe she got burned by Angel one too many times to trust the soul business."

"Maybe," Xander said thoughtfully. "I think we're missing something, though." He stopped talking as he noticed Dawn approaching them.

"Hey, girlie," Willow said.

"Hey, Willow. Xander. What're you guys talking about?" The young girl sat on the corner of the table and swung her legs back and forth.

"Nothing important. Just everyday not important stuff," Xander replied. Dawn raised her eyebrow. _Damn_, Xander thought. _She does that almost as well as Spike. I bet he gave her lessons at some point_. "Okay, you caught us," he said aloud. "We were talking about Spike."

Dawn's eyes brightened. "How is he? I really want to see him. I miss him."

Willow shook her head. "I know you do honey, but I think it would be better if you waited 'til Spike's back on his feet. He's just not himself yet."

Dawn's face fell, but she didn't push the point. "Just tell him I miss him and that I've taped every episode of Passions since he's been gone."

"Will do, Dawnie." Xander knew Spike would appreciate the message. "As a matter of fact, I'm headed home right now. I'll tell him as soon as I get there." As Xander walked back to his apartment, he kept telling himself that he was going home because he was tired, not because he wanted to hang out with Spike more than he wanted to hang out with the gang.

***

"Spike, if we have to listen to "Seventeen" one more time, I swear I will dust you. I can only take so much Sex Pistols in one day." Xander mock threatened the vampire with a pencil he'd left on the coffee table with his blue prints.

"And I suppose you want to listen to N'Sync instead. You lot are musically challenged. Wouldn't know a good tune if it bit you in the arse." Spike shook his finger at Xander. "Might as well go ahead and stake me if you're gonna put on that treacle."

Xander was horrified that somehow Spike had discovered his five-minute fascination with N'Sync when the band had first debuted. If Buffy didn't actively avoid Spike, he'd think she'd spilled the beans. His eyes narrowed. Dawn . . . I will kill her and wrap her body in the poster I gave her when I came to my senses. "I do not like N'Sync, Spike. And I like your ancient Old World music fine. I just can't listen to any CD for three hours straight. Put on _Come on Pilgrim_. I know you like that."

Spike seemed about to object, but changed the CD. He sat back down on the couch and poured a handful of Chexmix into his mug of blood. The vampire's eating habits didn't faze Xander any longer. If it could be dunked, dipped, or saturated in blood, it had been. Xander didn't even flinch when Spike separated an Oreo and dunked one-half into his mug.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I met Oscar Wilde?" Spike licked the blood and white frosting from the Oreo.

"No," Xander answered. _This should be interesting_. He could never tell when Spike was lying, but his stories were always great.

"Well, I was in London with Drusilla. We were having dinner with Ouida, this big-shot writer of the day. She invited us because Dru spouted some nonsense on the street about her dogs and the stars. Ouida was crazy about animals; always had dozens of yappy little mongrels with her. She'd let 'em just piss all over the place. Right nasty. That one was kinda off her nut, but she wrote trash that had every schoolgirl in England getting off in the broom closet. So they called her bloody eccentric instead of the raving loon she was. Leave it to Dru to find a kindred spirit. Anyway, Dru makes nice over her puppy, and next thing we know, we're having dinner with the most important people in London. Richard Burton was there and Oscar Wilde. Burton kept going on and on about his translation of _The Arabian Nights_; nobody gave a shit, and Dru kept whispering to me that we should just eat him. Actually what she said was, 'Wouldn't his eyes look beautiful in Miss Edith's little bowl?'" Spike grinned. "Dru always had the best ideas for what to do with boring-ass wankers. I told her she'd have to wait until after dinner; I wanted to talk to Wilde. Did you ever read _The Importance of Being Earnest_?" Xander shook his head no. He'd tried not to read anything that had been assigned to him in sophomore English lit. "It's bloody fantastic. Very funny. You'd like it. Well, all during dinner, Wilde keeps pressing his leg up against mine, kinda playing footsie with me under the table, ya see. And I think, wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if I feel up the most famous man in London in this crazy woman's pee-stained flat and then scare the shit outta him. Vamp out and say something diabolical in Latin. Maybe get him to put me in a play. So, after dinner, I cornered Wilde on the stairs and managed to plant one on him . . ."

"Wait a minute! You kissed Oscar Wilde? He's a guy. Not to disparage the manliness of the Big Bad, but . . . that's kinda gay."

Spike rolled his eyes. "You sodding humans and your stupid notions of sexuality. Not to sound like Willow, but desire isn't gendered, Xander. I'm not gay, just sexual. If some bloke gets me all hot and bothered, it's all the same to me. You humans get mired down in labels that don't really matter."

"Spike, I have seen pictures of Oscar Wilde on the covers of other people's books. He's not the kinda guy I picture getting you all hot and bothered. Not that I am now, or will ever be, picturing anything of that nature."

"Didn't you listen to the story, you stupid git? I wasn't attracted to him. I wanted him to write something me and Dru could read over Richard Burton's eyeballs. Now, Sid Vicious, that's a man gets me all hot and bothered."

"Okay, _that_ I can see. Damn, it. Not seeing," Xander said, flustered. Unfortunately, Xander's mind was paying little attention to his mouth. Suddenly he _could_ see Spike's body pressed tightly against the rocker, who in Xander's vision was taller than Spike and wearing the tightest jeans known to mankind. Xander shook his head and forced himself back to the present as the pair in his head began slowly leaning back over a set of speakers.

"What's the big deal, Harris?" Spike looked like he was having more fun than he'd had in weeks.

Xander shrugged. "I just never thought you'd be so . . . ah . . . open to . . . man sex."

Spike actually laughed. "Sex is sex, Xander."

***

"As you all know, Buffy was attacked last night by a demon that threatened yet another apocalyptic rising from the Hellmouth." Giles absently picked up an ornately gilded volume from the table as he talked.

"How surprising . . . and is that book bound in people skin?" Xander quipped.

Anya answered, "Yes, actually—the skin of a young, male virgin who dared to touch the hem of the goddess Laragatha's garments. He was flayed alive and his body served as the main course in her nuptial feast." Anya began to warm to her subject. "We studied her technique quite closely in vengeance school. And her recipe for stuffed human tenderloin saw a lot of play in the cafeteria." Anya stopped talking when the stares became pointed enough for her to process.

"Yes, well, as informative as that was, Anya, it bears no relationship to our current predicament. Buffy," Giles directed, "why don't you tell us again exactly what the demon said to you."

The Slayer took a deep breath, and the others leaned in to hear her story. Xander found himself more distracted than usual. Actually caring about Spike had exhausted him. He almost wished for the days when he could have tuned out the vampire's nightmares or let himself believe that Spike's remorse was insincere. He forced himself to pay more careful attention to what Buffy was saying.

"On patrol, I thought I saw something weird moving in one of the crypts. I went to investigate and saw this guy, or what I thought was a guy," she amended, "lighting candles in a magic circle and saying gobbledygook. Nothing good ever comes of that."

"No shit," interjected Dawn. At a glare from her sister, she added, "I'm just saying."

"_As I_ was saying, the guy realized I was watching and morphed into something outta Stephen King, complete with secretions and gaseous emissions—I'll spare you the details—"

"Thank you very much," from Willow.

"Then after some serious slayage, he said—'The mouth of Hell will open and issue forth her seed. On that day, the stars will bleed and the earth roil. Then you will meet your doom, Slayer.'"

"Did he say anything else, like when?" Willow asked. "I'm getting kinda tired of this constant orange alert, Apocalypse imminent business."

Buffy smiled at the witch. "I know what you mean. It's just one thing after another, but he didn't say anything else. His head sorta fell off at that point."

Giles directed the group to their reading. Xander attempted to choose the most slender volume, but Buffy snatched it from him. "Hey, no fair. Slayer speed and all. You have to give us mere mortals a chance to slack."

Buffy stuck her tongue out at Xander. "I'm sure you'll still be able to shirk your duties, even with no help from me." Leaning in conspiratorially, the Slayer asked, "Do you think Spike is okay back at your apartment alone, Xander?"

"Yeah. He really only has episodes early in the morning now. He still has nightmares, but he hasn't freaked out when he was awake in about a week." Xander wanted to add, "Plus, he's alone all day when I go to work, and nothing happens," but he didn't want Buffy to start thinking of a Spike with time on his hands.

"What do you do with him there? He must make it impossible to do anything," Buffy said.

"We watch TV, listen to music. Spike has taught me to play some old card games like whist and ecarte. We went to the Bronze last night, and he started teaching me to shoot pool." Xander stopped. Everyone in the room was looking at him strangely, particularly Buffy.

"You went to the Bronze with Spike? Why? I didn't think you were going to embrace this community service so wholeheartedly."

Xander sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, Buffy, Spike's kinda fun to hang out with. He knows how to do everything, and he's got one hundred and fifty years of great stories." The man started to gain momentum in his defense of the vampire. "Not to mention, he really is sorry for the things he's done. He's trying to start over."

Buffy looked so incredulous, Xander thought she might actually damage her face. "He's a vampire, Xander. Evil undead. He has a soul now, but it doesn't mean anything. It doesn't change who he is. It's just another con."

Xander stood and faced the Slayer. "Two things—why is it so convenient for you to forget the whole Angel extravaganza when you want to be self-righteous? Second, you don't hear Spike screaming at night." He left the room, walking down the stairs into the basement Giles had converted into a training room for Buffy.

He couldn't believe he'd just defended Spike to the Scoobies—Spike who had tried to kill them all many times and with as many ridiculous plans. But he'd meant what he said to Buffy. Spike seemed truly different, transformed. He sighed. Anya came down the stairs.

"Xander, I wanted to talk to you alone, and I think this is as good a time as any. The prophecies of Laragatha were beginning to bore me—just 'and he shall die of boils and lesions' over and over. Much too amateur for her talent." The vengeance demon rolled her eyes at her ex. "I'm leaving Sunnydale."

"Why?" Xander asked. "The Magic Box is doing great. You're nothing if not a devoted capitalist. If you're leaving because of me, don't. I don't want to be responsible for running you out of town."

"For once, Xander, it doesn't have anything to do with you. Actually, I'm leaving because of Buffy."

"Buffy?" Xander was extremely confused.

"Hello. Slayer. Vengeance demon. Sooner or later, Buffy will feel all full of justice and kill me. I know my limits; I can't take on the Slayer. Buffy always wins."

"But, I thought after Nancy . . . You called that curse off. I thought you were going to stop for good." Xander started to panic. He'd truly believed Anya had had an epiphany. He couldn't believe she'd want to keep hurting people after the giant worm from hell fiasco.

"You thought wrong." Anya crossed her arms defensively. "I got into a lot of trouble with that stunt. I only called off the curse because of you and the others. You cloud my judgment. I can't really practice my craft with all of you disapproving all the time."

"Anya, listen to what you're saying. You want to leave Sunnydale so you can kill innocent people in peace!" Xander ran his hand through his dark hair and thought idly about smacking his head into the wall until all the insanity just went away.

"Xander, they're never innocent. I get retribution for the innocent. I'm like the Johnny Cochran of demons."

"Anya, this is not funny. We're talking about your soul here."

Anya looked at him sadly. "I don't have a soul anymore, Xander. Demon, remember?"

"You, you could do what Spike did. Get your soul back. Find a loophole in your demon contract. Get Willow to curse you with one. Umm…" Xander was babbling.

"Xander," she said gently. "I don't want a soul."

He became absolutely still. Xander looked into his former lover's eyes and saw no conflict, no mixed emotions, only clear resolution. His mouth dropped. "How can you not want a soul?"

"I had one, for several years. It was not the joy you humans make it out to be. It hurt. Everything was so confusing. Exciting, but confusing. And then Buffy's mom died, and I realized that death and the soul are a package deal. Battling Glory, I saw that I would likely spend the rest of my human existence trying not to die or encouraging others not to die. Being human, having a soul, it's about death and pain."

"But you said before 'being soulless is the embodiment of emptiness.' Didn't you mean that?" Xander felt tears welling in his eyes and slowly spilling over his tanned cheeks. He made no move to brush them away.

"Yes, I did. But I prefer being empty to being full of pain. Even the good parts of being human—like the sex and the acquisition of material goods—hurt because they made the inevitability of death that much more agonizing. Then, when you walked out on our marriage, it hurt me more than I ever thought imaginable. More than the promise of death."

"So this is about me," Xander shot back.

"No, Xander. It's finally about me. I know you don't understand. I just wanted to let you know I was leaving. Why, I'm not sure. Maybe because it's the only version of vengeance I can wreak on you." She started to leave. Xander caught her arm. "I'm sorry, Xander. I'm sorry." She wrenched her arm from his grasp and went back up the stairs.

Xander sat slowly down on one of the benches lining the training room wall. This was fucking unbelievable. The woman he still loved would rather not have a soul, thank you very much. Xander couldn't help thinking about Spike. The vampire had done evil deeds in his undead career that rivaled Anya's nastiest curses; admittedly, the vampire's stint had been much shorter, but actually more gory, proportionately. And yet, William-the-fucking-Bloody had gone out and won himself a chance at redemption.

Xander heard steps on the stairs and darted out the side door into the street. He knew Buffy would be coming down to make up with him soon, and he couldn't handle that conversation yet. He started the short walk back to his apartment, not for the first time envying the Slayer her particular method of therapy. Xander's fingers itched to kill something, or at least beat it senseless. By the time he reached his front door, he was almost consumed with anger, grief, and fear for Anya. And guilt—always the guilt.

Xander opened the door and sat on the couch. Spike was in the kitchen, heating up a mug of blood.

"Welcome home, Harris. Took your bloody time getting back from the Scooby meeting. I rented _Kill Bill Vol. I_, and I know you'll get snitty if we don't watch it soon cuz it's three hours long with deleted scenes. Humans and your sodding sleep requirements . . ." He broke off as he finally looked the younger man in the face.

***

Weeks had passed since the apocalypse alert. The Scoobies had researched the dire prediction the slain demon had made to no avail. Giles had even called Wesley in L.A., but they'd had no luck either. Spike had been a regular fixture at the Scooby meetings for some time now. Xander had suggested that Spike make himself useful, and the vampire had surprisingly agreed. Even more surprising to Xander was the way that everyone, except Buffy, warmed to the vampire. Tentative friendships were beginning on all sides. Anya had left some time ago. Another surprise—she had deeded the Magic Box to Dawn, with Giles legally in charge until Dawn came of age. Xander thought that move was probably Anya's bid for sympathy, should she ever find herself a target for the Slayer.

Perhaps most surprising of all was how little Xander missed her. The day she finally left, he'd cried into his beer and watched Lifetime until Spike came home from his regular poker game and told him story after ridiculous story of all the times Dru had left him in the century they'd been together. Xander knew that Spike was being more honest with him than he'd been with anyone for a long time. It wasn't like the vampire to bare his soul (pun intended) or leave himself open to ridicule. But he did for Xander, to make him feel better. Xander realized then that Spike truly cared about him, considered him a real friend.

This realization forced Xander to think about his own feelings for Spike. He could barely articulate the emotions, even mentally, but Xander knew that some part of him wanted something more than friendship from Spike. He couldn't stop comparing the vampire to Anya and finding Anya wanting. Spike cherished the very thing she'd given up so readily. Xander thought about the vampire constantly, planning their evenings together while he was waiting for five o'clock to roll around. On his lunch breaks, he rented movies he thought might appeal to Spike or spark some storytelling of his glory days. He even found himself watching Spike sleep in the early mornings before he got ready for work.

Spike still slept in Xander's room. The vampire had had nightmares for so long, that by the time they became more manageable, neither man thought of moving Spike's bed back to the guest room. Xander thought of his bedroom as their room, now. Which he knew was a bit weird. As was the fact that he now woke up ten minutes earlier than he used to, just so he could watch Spike sleep. The vampire always slept as close to naked as he thought Xander's sense of propriety would allow, and his covers always seemed to wind into a thin ribbon around his hips by morning. Xander would stare at Spike's torso, so pale he could see blue veins marbling the skin. He would let himself think, for just a moment, about what it might feel like to snuggle up to that chest and run his fingers through Spike's blonde curls. Then he would quickly jump out of bed, take a freezing shower, and tell himself his hormones were just overactive because he'd been celibate since before Anya left. Despite Spike's lecture on human sexuality, Xander wasn't ready to admit to himself that he was anything other than the kind of guy who fell for curvy, bosomy, girly, _female_ demons.

A month after Anya left, Giles called off the research frenzy into the apocalypse. "At this time, we simply haven't enough information to proceed; we'll have to wait until something happens before we move further in our investigation." The Watcher frowned in disapproval as Spike and Xander continued whispering very loudly to each other. He could make out the phrase, "Paige so could kick Piper's ass!" followed by a resounding snort from Spike. "Knock it off, you two, or I'll be forced to banish you to opposite corners of the room." Although neither man looked particularly chastened, they stopped talking and moved their argument to a series of heatedly scrawled notes.

"Buffy, you will, of course, pay careful attention to anything out of the ordinary, as will we all. Now please, go live your young lives."

Xander and Spike walked companionably back to the apartment. "I thought Rupert was never gonna shut his bloody hole. How fucking long does it take to say, 'Stop researching. Go home.'" The vampire took a long drag off his cigarette.

"Yeah. Giles not so much with the brevity." When Spike raised his eyebrow, Xander protested, "What? Only Willow's allowed to use the three-dollar words?"

Suddenly, three men surrounded the friends, one of them brandishing a tire iron. The largest one said, "Give us all your money and your jackets."

Spike immediately vamped out and snarled back, "Move it along, mates. Nothing but trouble for you here."

The big one laughed. "You're Spike, right? You have a chip in your head that keeps you from hurting humans. Willy gives tips to more than just the Slayer."

Xander saw for the first time real fear in Spike's eyes at the prospect of a fight. The vampire couldn't defend himself and couldn't count on Xander to stave off three assailants. Xander saw the big one lunge for him. He waited for the attack as Spike had taught him, and managed to flip the guy over his shoulder. Spike was writhing on the ground in agony, but he'd knocked the armed guy unconscious before the chip incapacitated him. Xander grabbed the tire iron from the man's limp fingers and caught the big guy across the midsection as he came back into the fight. The man crumpled into a heap. The remaining attacker took off down the street when Xander ran at him with the weapon. Spike had managed to stand, and the two of them hurried to the apartment.

Xander felt antsy. His adrenaline was high. He turned on the TV and heard Spike call, "Gonna take a shower. That stupid git knocked me in a puddle." The young man paced for a moment before deciding that a beer would probably calm him down.

"Ahh, tasty good," he said aloud after a swallow of Killian's Red. As Xander relaxed, he began replaying the fight in his mind. He suddenly realized that he had never been afraid for his own life; he'd only worried that he wouldn't be able to protect Spike. He thought about that as he took another long pull on his beer. He wanted to believe that his desire to defend Spike stemmed from the fact that Spike was the only real guy friend he'd had in years, a decade almost. But Xander knew there was more to that desire, like, desire.

_Oh, hell, you may as well go on and think it, Xander. You like Spike. You want to spend all your time with him. You constantly try to impress him. You want him to be happy and sane, and you're jealous when skanky vampire hos try to hit on him. You pretend to like Passions just so you can sit beside him on the couch when it's playing._ Xander was pulled from his reverie by the unmistakable sound of Spike screaming in the shower.

Xander ran to the bathroom door. "Spike, what's wrong?" The vampire didn't answer him, just continued to scream. When Xander heard a loud crash, he opened the door and rushed inside. Spike had torn the shower curtain down as he fell and was stretched across the tub, hot water pelting his nude body. Xander tried desperately to ignore the male nudity as he reached around the moaning vampire to kill the water. "Spike, what's wrong?" he repeated.

"The chip….it keeps firing. I haven't done anything, bloody hell, I can't think. Make it stop." Spike started to pound his head into the white porcelain. Xander grabbed his friend's shoulders and held him tightly, although he knew if Spike really freaked out, he wouldn't be strong enough to restrain him. The vampire's skin was cool and smooth under his hands. Xander tried again not to think about the male nudity and how much of it was pressed up against him. Spike slowly calmed in his arms.

"Come on. Let's get you dressed. Giles will know how to fix this." Xander pulled Spike to his feet and tried almost successfully to avert his eyes from Spike's naked body. The vampire really was beautiful, almost like a Greek statue—all long, sinewy muscle and ivory skin. Xander shook his head to clear it. When he started mentally composing Pindaric odes (_thank you Willow, for that World Lit I lecture_) to a nude Spike in the bathroom, he knew he was seriously smitten.

"I'm okay now. It stopped firing, but no telling when it'll start again. D'you really think the Watcher will help me?"

"Yes, I do, Spike, but only if you put on some clothes." Xander held out a towel to the vampire, who seemed more than a little amused at what Xander was sure he would call "bloody human modesty." Xander thanked all the gods and goddesses and minor beneficent deities that Spike seemed unaware of the effect he was having on him.

Later that night, Giles and Willow met Xander and Spike at the Magic Box. They both looked sleepy and slightly annoyed at the it's-urgent-but-secret-so-don't-tell-Buffy wakeup call.

"Xander what is this about? It's after midnight." Xander hoped Giles was trying to sound more exasperated than he really felt. If the Watcher was in a foul mood, he was less likely to help Spike.

"Spike and I were attacked earlier tonight. By three humans."

"What!" Willow cried. Xander could see the wheels already turning in his best friend's head. "How did you escape? Spike can't fight humans."

"I would be able to, if I didn't have this bleeding chip in my skull." Spike said defensively. Xander glared at him. The plan had been to bring it up delicately, after Willow and Giles had been properly frightened by their greatly embellished story. _Oh, what the hell, may as well have it all out in the open_.

"I think I know where this meeting is leading, and I know what our resident Slayer would have to say about your request. I inquire on Buffy's behalf: Are the two of you seriously asking us to remove the chip from Spike's head? The chip that prevents him from killing humans, you included, Xander," Giles asked, almost perfunctorily.

"Yeah, we are. Spike could have died. _I_ could have died. We both would have died if Spike hadn't been teaching me to fight or if he hadn't managed to take one guy out before the chip fired." Xander argued.

"Not to mention, the damn thing doesn't work right anymore. It's been going off all night for no reason." Spike grumbled.

"I can see how that would be a problem," Willow said. "Giles, you know I can remove the chip from Spike. We talked about this before. It's a simple spell, really."

"Wait, you've had conversations about de-chipping Spike? When? And why was I not involved?" Xander demanded.

"Xander, I have attempted on several occasions to speak with Buffy about her unreasonable, ah, distaste for Spike, but to no avail. I am perhaps the last person I myself could imagine championing the cause of a souled vampire. Angel did, after all, take from me the once real chance I have had at love in this godforsaken place. But you are not Angel, Spike. You have never been anything like him. I imagine that, were you to lose your soul, you would be much the same as you are now. I can honestly say that I trust you, and so do the others. You have done nothing but earn that trust since you returned to Sunnydale. We did not involve you in this discussion, Xander, because we felt that you needed all your friends firmly on your side while you are dealing with Anya's departure. I wanted to give you as much time to adjust to her absence as possible before calling down the wrath of a Slayer on all of us."

Xander was shocked. He hadn't expected the Watcher to capitulate so easily. He knew that Giles had begun to treat Spike as if he were really one of the gang, but Xander never expected this level of acceptance for the vampire. He looked at Spike, who seemed shocked as well.

"Thanks, Rupert. Never thought I'd hear you say anything like that to me. I can't believe you're willing to cross the Slayer to help me. Means a lot." Spike didn't even temper the heartfelt statement with a joke.

"Frankly, Spike, I'm surprised it took this long and such a horrific event for you to ask us to help."

Spike nodded and replied, "Now, about the Slayer. I can't just wait around for her to change her bloody mind about me. This damn thing'll kill me before then."

"No, I suppose you are right, Spike. We will have to remove the chip now and explain our actions to Buffy later." Giles looked uncomfortable with this solution, but turned to Spike and said, "We may begin the ritual now, if you are ready."

Spike said, "I'm ready. Just get it out of me."

Willow concentrated, said a few words in Latin, and they all blinked when a microchip materialized on the table. Spike quickly smashed it with his fist and brushed the bits into a trashcan.

Xander suddenly suggested, "Why tell Buffy at all? What she doesn't know, won't . . ."

"Xander, we can't lie to Buffy. Now that I've worked the mojo, she can't put the chip back in. Any argument she makes will be moot anyway," Willow said.

Spike crossed his arms. "I'm not telling her. And neither is he." Spike pointed at Xander.

Giles vigorously polished his glasses. "Yes, well, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to postpone this particular announcement for a few days."

Setting his mug of blood on the counter, Spike crossed the room and sat beside Xander on the sofa. "What's wrong, mate? You look like somebody died. Oh, God . . . did somebody die?" He looked anxiously at Xander.

"No, nobody's dead. Anya's leaving Sunnydale, and she doesn't have a soul." Xander began sobbing helplessly, embarrassed that he was losing control in front of Spike but unable to stop the flood of emotion.

"Well, right mate. You know that. Demons don't have souls. 'S not news."

Xander tried to explain. "I thought she wanted a soul. I thought she'd want to be human again once she stopped hating me for jilting her. But she doesn't. She's leaving Sunnydale so Buffy doesn't have to slay her."

"That's smart. Buffy would take her in a heartbeat." Spike seemed to realize what he was saying and changed tacks. "Sorry, not helping."

Xander took his face out of his hands and looked into Spike's eyes. "You wanted a soul. You loved Buffy for five minutes, and you wanted it—the white hat, the forgiveness. You crawled into a cave and went through hell to get it. You don't say much about what you had to do for it, but you talk in your sleep. I know you thought you were gonna die. Spike, you got a soul, and that's pretty fucking amazing. And Anya threw hers away like it was nothing."

Xander watched Spike's blue eyes deepen as he tried to think of something to say to comfort him. To his surprise, he felt the vampire's arm creeping awkwardly around his shoulders. Some part of Xander was amused at Spike's clumsy half-hug, but the amusement was tempered with genuine gratitude that Spike was trying to console him.

"Xander, Anya's not a vengeance demon cuz you aren't worth winning a soul for. I did want a soul for Buffy, at first. But Buffy will never love me. Chip or no chip, soul or not, human, vampire. She will never love me. I'm not fucking Angel, so she'll never love me. I'm . . . beneath her. So, I had to make this soul about something else. You lot. Niblet. The good fight. Laughing with people. Maybe having friends. Maybe one day, somewhere, walking in the sunshine. So this soul's not for her; it's for me. Anya forgot that. She made her soul about you. You fucked up; you made a mistake. She gave it up because it never really meant anything to her in the first place. Anya didn't go back to the vengeance biz because something's wrong with you."

Xander sighed. "Thanks for saying that, Spike. I don't know if I believe you, but it helps."

"No problem, mate. Let's watch the movie and drink. None of that swill you usually buy tonight. I nicked us some top-drawer bourbon. One shot every time someone defies the laws of gravity. Two shots for arterial spray. Drink at will for general carnage and mayhem." Xander managed a weak laugh and got the shot glasses from the kitchen. He looked back at the vampire, his black boots propped up on the coffee table. Xander really couldn't think of anything he'd rather be doing than watching Tarantino and getting drunk with Spike.

***

Spike ducked to avoid Xander's punch. "Good. That woulda hit me if I was human." Spike flopped down on one of the benches in Buffy's training room. Spike had taken to sparring with Xander whenever the Slayer was on patrol. Their training sessions had grown more intense, and useful, now that the vampire didn't scream in agony if he accidentally pushed Xander too far. Xander hoped he wasn't embarrassing himself mightily. Spike could easily evade his attacks, and even though the vampire pulled his punches from force of habit, he always found his mark.

Suddenly, Spike grinned. Xander was instantly wary. He had discovered over the past months that a blinding grin from Spike usually signaled some sort of mischief. "You need a good motivation, Harris. You're not getting any better at sidestepping cuz you think I won't really hit you. Now, I can. Not hard, but it'll hurt enough to get your attention. Nothing like a little pain to get the old reflexes going." _Great_, Xander thought. Now he really was going to embarrass himself mightily. _Fine, if I'm gonna be mortified, I'll at least make it a joke and mess up Spike's hair to boot_.

Spike stood, slowly circling Xander on the mat. Suddenly, Xander took a deep breath and threw himself at the vampire with what he hoped Billy Idol would agree qualifies as a Rebel yell. "What the hell, Harris!" Spike shouted as Xander attempted to subdue him with a truly terrifying attack combo of hair pulling and pinching. When Xander swept the vampire's feet out from under him, he was certain Spike fell only because he was laughing so hard. Xander quickly rolled on top of Spike, straddled his slim pelvis, and pinned his wrists to the mat.

"I won! Victory is mine! The Big Bad cowers before me!"

Spike continued laughing. "The apocalypse has come. Xander Harris channeling bloody Harmony."

"I won, didn't I?" Xander pushed Spike's arms into the mat a little more forcefully to emphasize his point.

"Yeah, mate. You won. Your sorority girl tactics were just too much for me." Spike rolled his eyes but couldn't stop from laughing again.

Xander realized he was milking this moment just a little too long, but he didn't want to give up his hold on Spike. He liked the way the other man's hard body felt under him, liked the way Spike's eyes turned a deeper shade of blue when he laughed. He could feel the button of Spike's jeans pressing into his hip and a thin strip of bare flesh against his own where both their shirts had ridden up. Xander almost reached down to trail his fingers across Spike's stomach before he caught himself. _Oh, God, what am I doing? I'm about to feel up my undead new best friend. Who is a guy. Who will break my hands because he is so not interested in me_. Xander let go of Spike's wrists and rolled off the vampire.

Spike looked at him and raised his eyebrow as if he knew exactly what Xander was thinking. "Something the matter, mate?"

Xander started babbling to cover his confusion. "Okay, Spike, training's over. Ever since you got that chip outta your head, you just can't wait for another round of make me your pommel horse. Well, we're ending on a high note tonight. Let's go to the Bronze. I'll buy you a drink to celebrate your defeat at my superior ninja moves. Oooh, maybe some big, scary demon will hit on me and you can chop it up six ways to Sunday." Xander noticed that Spike was no longer listening to him, but staring over his shoulder with a horrified look on his face. Xander leaned forward and whispered to Spike, "I don't even have to look. Buffy's back there, and she heard everything, right?" Spike nodded, never taking his eyes off the Slayer. "Do you think the same moves would bring her down?" Xander had lived with Spike long enough to tell that the vampire was holding in a hysterical laugh.

Xander looked behind him. Buffy had turned a shade of white Xander usually thought of as Vampiric Chic. He had never seen his friend look so cold. When she spoke, her tone was even, measured. "How long has it been out, Spike?"

"Couple a weeks or so." Spike looked as if he was lounging easily on the floor, but their legs were touching, and Xander could feel the muscles in Spike's thigh tensed for flight.

"And you knew about this?" When Xander nodded, Buffy drew a shuddering breath and continued. "How'd you do it?" Spike kept his mouth shut, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. He'd told Xander before, that if it came to this, he would not, in his words, "rat out Red."

"I did it." Willow's voice preceded her as she walked down the stairs, followed closely by Giles.

"We did it," Giles amended.

Spike and Xander had imagined over the last few weeks the many ways in which this conversation could go down, but they never envisioned the version where Buffy cried. And really cried. The kind of sobs that left her gasping for air and struggling to find her voice. Xander rose to his feet and attempted to put his arm around Buffy. She backed away from him.

"Don't you fucking touch me! Any of you. I cannot believe you would betray me like this. He is the enemy. He is a demon. He is a thing. We use him when we need him. We do not play house with him or go to the movies with him. Or willingly remove the only thing that's kept us from being his lunch. When we forget what Spike is, when we let our guard down, that's when he strikes." Buffy's voice had risen with each statement. Now, she was practically shouting.

"Wait a minute, Buffy," Xander protested hotly. "Spike is not a thing. He's not just a weapon you can pull out when it suits you and then shut back up in the chest when it doesn't. He hasn't been anyone's enemy but yours for a long time now."

"How can you defend him? His friendship is beneath you."

Giles began to speak, but Xander cut him off. He stepped between Buffy and Spike. "Don't you ever say that. Spike is not beneath me—or any of us. He has a soul, one that he fought for, and he's my friend. I will not let you hurt him." Xander hoped he could still seem threatening after the mock catfight Buffy had just witnessed.

"You won't let me hurt him. Spike fucking tried to rape me, and you're all worried about his well-being?" The room froze. The only sounds were Buffy's strangled sobs. Xander instinctively took a step towards Spike, as if to shield him from the Slayer. Buffy said, "Oh, don't worry Xander. I won't touch Spike. Willow's been chanting under her breath ever since this little fight started. I probably couldn't stake him if I tried." Then she ran out the side door and into the street.

Xander had come to terms with Spike's past, all of it, before this night. He knew that Spike would never hurt any of them again and that he was genuinely remorseful for what he'd done. But he also hadn't been on the receiving end of an attempted sexual assault from the vampire. Xander could understand why Buffy felt the way she did. He thought that if Buffy had just given Spike a chance to apologize when he first returned to Sunnydale or actually spent some time with him, seeing the difference in him, she might feel a little differently. Or maybe she would never be able to forgive Spike.

Nobody spoke. Xander risked a glance at Spike's face. He'd seen that look exactly once, the night he'd found Spike in the alley. He was wearing the same tortured expression of self-loathing, those same haunted eyes that signaled the slow slip of mind Xander had worked so hard to erase. Xander understood that his loyalties should be clear. He knew his heart should ache only for Buffy. But he wanted to run to Spike. Not Buffy. Spike. _How did this get so complicated_? Two years ago, Spike's ashes would've made him a nice souvenir. Now he wanted nothing more than to wipe away the single tear on Spike's jaw with the pad of his thumb. He wanted to pull Spike close and hold him until he stopped trembling. He wanted to make him laugh, keep him safe, heal his hurt. Xander realized, with sudden clarity, watching Spike fold in on himself, that his urge to comfort the vampire came from more than friendship, or a crush, or simple lust. He was falling in love. Xander sighed; _this is a huge mess_.

"She's right, ya know," Spike whispered. "I don't deserve your trust."

Willow put her arm around the vampire. "Spike, what happened was wrong. The demon that did that doesn't deserve our trust. But you do. You've changed."

"Willow, that demon is still inside me. I can feel it crawling around underneath my skin. Buffy's right. What if I hurt someone again?" He looked at Xander. "I'll just go." He turned to leave.

Xander put his hand on Spike's chest. "You most certainly will not, buddy. There's no telling what Buffy would do to you right now if she found you. And I don't think you'd put up too much of a fight. Don't make me channel Harmony again." Spike didn't smile this time, but he made no further move toward the door.

Giles cleared his throat. "It seems that the, ah, incident with Spike has been preying on Buffy's mind for some time now. I wish I had known what was troubling her. Perhaps I could have helped her." The Watcher looked sad. Xander knew Giles thought of Buffy as his daughter. "Spike, come upstairs with me and have a drink. You and Buffy will have to talk about what happened, sooner rather than later, if any healing is to occur between you. However, you should know that if Buffy cannot make her peace with you, we will respect her wishes. We will not allow her to harm you, but her needs must come first with us. Now, I want Willow to cast a protection spell on you that will last longer than the one she cast earlier." The Watcher began herding Spike and Willow up the stairs, and Xander took the opportunity to slip out after Buffy. He had to try to make this right. Spike had to stay in Sunnydale. Xander couldn't bear the thought of coming home every day to an empty apartment.

He found her sooner than expected, sitting with her back against the wall, just outside the Magic Box door. She'd been able to hear everything they were saying. Xander slid down the wall beside her and sat wordlessly, crossing his arms over his knees.

Buffy spoke before he did. "I know he's changed, Xander. I see it in him. I know if I let him talk to me, he'd say the right things, and I would see how sorry he is. But I just can't. I can't. I thought he'd changed before, even though he didn't have a soul. Through that whole ordeal with Glory, he was kind; he was caring. He said he'd protect Dawn with his life, and I believed him. He said he loved me, and I believed him. When I came back from the grave, Spike was the only person I could be honest with. I needed him, then." Buffy put her head down on her knees. "When he tried to rape me, I snapped. All the good he'd done before just seemed like a con leading up to that very moment when he showed his true colors. I know why he did it. He felt pushed, desperate. The things I said to him, the things I did to him, even when I was letting him. . . . Spike just wanted me to love him back, and in his twisted demon logic, forcing me to have sex with him was apparently the way to accomplish that goal. He was horrified about what he'd done even then. That's why he left town."

"And now, you can't trust that Spike's really changed because you're afraid of being hurt again, of feeling betrayed?" Xander reached out his hand to Buffy, and she took it in her own. "I'm so sorry, Buffy. I don't know what was wrong with all of us. I didn't forget that Spike tried to hurt you, but it just didn't seem worse than when he tried to kill you." Xander paused. "I live with him. Everyday I see how different he is, how sorry he is for everything. I guess it was easy for me to lump all his sins into one category and forgive them. I think that's what happened with the others, too. Giles and Willow have been spending a lot of time with Spike. I'm sorry we didn't realize how much we were hurting you."

"I know you weren't trying to hurt me, Xander. It's okay."

Xander continued, "Spike is my friend, and I care about him, but I would never let him hurt you, or anyone else. I mean that. You are my best friend. We have been through hell together more times than I care to count. I would never suggest you accept Spike if I thought he was dangerous. I don't think Spike is conning us; I really don't. He dreams about that night in your bathroom. I hear him, early in the morning, crying. Loving you, hating himself—you're the reason he got that soul in the first place." Xander squeezed her hand, and she looked up at him. "Buffy, I understand if you can't ever be best pals with Spike, but please don't stake him."

Buffy sighed. "I'm not going to kill him, Xander. This is just really hard for me. I don't know how to be around him." She paused. "I think I just need to go home and go to sleep. We'll deal with all this tomorrow." Buffy stood up and walked alone down the alley.

***

Xander paced nervously in the apartment. The past few days had been truly hellacious. Buffy had stayed holed up in her room, and Willow, Giles, and Dawn had hovered outside, trying to help and failing. Xander had had his hands full with Spike. When he was awake, the vampire was cranky and vaguely suicidal; when he was sleeping, Spike's nightmares were horrific. More than once, Xander had actually had to climb into the bed with Spike and physically restrain him until the vampire quieted. Last night, he had fallen asleep with Spike's head on his chest. He woke midmorning, Spike's legs wrapped around his own, the vampire's arm flung across his upper body. Xander's arm, the one that wasn't asleep, was resting lightly on the small of Spike's back. Xander had let himself imagine for a while that they'd ended up this way for reasons more enjoyable than last night's round of preserve-the-Spike, then carefully had extricated himself from the sleeping vampire's embrace. When he woke, Spike hadn't mentioned the previous night's sleeping arrangements. Xander didn't think he even knew.

At the moment, Spike was at Buffy's house, talking to the Slayer. Giles had called a few hours before and told Xander that Buffy was ready to talk to Spike. Spike had immediately gone out into the night. Before he left, he'd asked Xander not to come. He said, "You've been so good to me, Xander. Stood up for me when I didn't deserve it. I don't want you to hear this. Just wait for me here, okay?"

Xander sighed. _Why did I give in? I can't stand not knowing what's going on. Willow's spell will keep Spike alive, but what if he comes back in worse mental shape than when he left? What if he doesn't come back at all?_ Xander could see Spike on the freeway, the Welcome to Sunnydale sign getting smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror. Xander tried to distract himself with television, but _Charmed_ just wasn't as entertaining without Spike's running commentary. He barely noticed the new depths of sluttiness to which Phoebe's wardrobe had descended; he was too busy watching the clock. When the door to the apartment finally swung open, Xander was so wired, he jumped.

Spike looked more relaxed than Xander had seen him since that night in the Magic Shop. Xander could tell he had been crying, but his expression was lucid, almost peaceful. "Well?" Xander blurted.

Spike sat on the couch. "We talked. Or mostly she did. The Watcher and the witch sat outside the door and listened the whole time. They'd shipped Dawn off to Janice's." Spike caught Xander's look and quickly said, "Listen, mate, I don't wanna talk about it. We worked some things out between us. Slayer's not gonna be throwing me parties any time soon, but she won't be trying to decapitate me, either." Spike paused. The credits to Charmed rolled on the TV. Somewhere, outside, a car alarm sounded. Then he said simply, "She forgave me."

Xander resisted the urge to give Spike a hug. He was so relieved. He knew that things wouldn't instantly change between Buffy and the vampire. They might not ever be anything but distant and civil with each other. _But Spike is staying. With me. Or, not with me. But here, in Sunnydale, in this apartment_.

Spike called over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen. "What in bloody hell was Phoebe wearing this episode? Looked like she had a string a dead squirrels round her waist. Ya think UPN could afford to put her in something with sleeves at least once a season."

Xander grinned.

***

Xander winced as a headstone conveniently, and painfully, broke his fall, and then swiftly punched his stake right into the newly risen vampire's heart. He coughed as the dust settled around him and glared up at his patrolling partner. "Spike, you didn't even help me." He accepted the vampire's hand up.

"Didn't need my help, mate. 'Sides, you were having fun."

"Oh, yes, Spike. I just love breaking masonry with my body. It's why I stayed on the Hellmouth all these years." Xander rolled his eyes and fell into step with Spike. He watched Spike walking out of the corner of his eye. The shorter man constantly surveyed the area around them, looking for anything dangerous. Spike tossed a stake lightly in his fingertips and softly hummed the guitar riff to "Bodies." Xander almost wished something nasty would jump out of the shadows so he could watch Spike fight it. Spike looked so alive when he was killing something. He always had the tiniest little smile on his face, the easy confidence with which he moved belying his strength. And if he actually had to work for the kill, Spike would pant for breath he didn't need; the smile would disappear and his eyes narrow in concentration. All the angles in his lean body would sharpen, and Xander would think, every time, Spike is beautiful. Xander sighed internally. _Spike is so fucking cool, and I am the eternal Zeppo. Adam Sessler to his Morgan Webb. Spike is so completely out of my league_.

Suddenly, the earth beneath them began to move. Xander would've fallen to the ground as it pitched under him, if Spike hadn't caught his elbow. They fell eventually anyway as the earthquake increased in intensity. Xander paused to notice, in the moments before he was sure the ground would swallow him whole, that Spike had wrapped his arms around him in an effort to protect his human friend's more frail body. Xander nearly smiled. _I should just go now, he thought, wrapped in vampirey-goodness_. Then slowly, the earth stopped shaking, trembling a few times more until it settled.

To Xander's surprise, Spike didn't relinquish his grip. Xander lifted his head from where he'd buried it in Spike's shoulder. Spike gently brushed a leaf from Xander's cheek and leaned into the younger man's body. The vampire looked as if he wanted to say something very important but couldn't find the words. Xander's heart raced. Spike was holding him, embracing him, really. Spike slowly began to lower his head until their lips were almost touching. _Don't fuck this up, don't fuck this up_, Xander thought, panicking; he was afraid that if he looked directly into those blue eyes, the Xanderbabble would overtake him and ruin whatever was about to happen, so he stared instead at a patch of sky directly behind Spike's head.

"Oh, shit," he whispered. The stars all looked wrong, somehow—red.

"What?" Spike jerked back and frowned, until he turned to look at the sky behind him. "That's bloody weird. What the hell d'you suppose it is?"

"The apocalypse. What else?"

***

"We have to get to the Hellmouth. Now." Buffy loaded more weapons into her bag. Dawn grabbed an axe from the cache of weapons, which Buffy promptly snatched from her. "Dawn, you are not a part of this. You are staying right here where it's safe."

Xander watched the young girl wrest the axe back from her sister and speak furiously. "I am so a part of this. You know I can help you. I'm not staying here."

Buffy threw her hands up in the air. "Fine—but I'm burning all your Avril Lavigne CDs when you're dead." The interplay was so familiar, Xander could almost forget it was the end of the world again and pretend that the siblings were fighting about clothes or Dawn's questionable taste in the opposite sex.

"I wish we had some clue what was about to happen." Willow looked incredibly nervous.

Xander said, "Willow, you're like the most powerful witch of all time. If Buffy doesn't slay it and Spike doesn't smash it and I don't damage myself on it, I have every faith that you can make it go poof."

Everyone was smiling, even Spike. Xander loved these moments of peace before the storm. They were when he felt most useful. He would never match Buffy or Spike's physical prowess, Willow's magic, or Giles' intelligence, but he could always make them laugh. He was the heart of this group. They'd done a spell once to prove it, and Xander took his responsibility seriously.

Spike was leaning up against the doorframe, nodding at something Dawn was whispering in his ear. Xander wished that he and Spike had had just five more minutes in the cemetery before all Hell broke loose, literally. Xander knew he was probably misreading the situation, but he could almost believe that Spike had been about to kiss him.

***

Xander gripped his sword more tightly. He scooted imperceptibly closer to Spike as they stood outside the basement door to the Hellmouth. The air felt heavy and thick with magic. Buffy cautiously opened the door to reveal . . . nothing. No army, no hordes of minions, just the seal visible on the floor. Xander looked questioningly at Buffy.

"We wait," she pronounced.

Xander sat next to Spike against the wall. The vampire lit a cigarette and threw the empty pack on the Hellmouth seal. Almost imperceptibly, the arms of the seal began to peel back.

Spike jumped to his feet. "Oh, bloody hell. I didn't do that. Sodding thing only opens for blood. Why's it doing that, Watcher?"

"I don't know, Spike. Perhaps littering on the gates of Hell is not such a brilliant idea," Giles shot back.

"I do. Know why, I mean," Willow said. "That demon said the stars would bleed after the earthquake. They must be letting off some mystical energy that allows the Hellmouth to open. If that's the case, I think I can create a magical dampening field around the seal. It should block the flow of energy and close it down."

Willow ran to the farthest corner of the basement room, dropping on her knees and drawing a magic circle in the dust around her. Giles and Dawn followed. They each took up a position between Willow and the Hellmouth. The air around Willow crackled with energy, and her eyes turned black and alien. Xander barely had time to think, _She looks just like Goku powering up for a spirit bomb_, before two demons had jumped from the Hellmouth, the last one losing a chunk of his heel as the seal snapped back down. Spike and Buffy immediately surrounded the pair of nasties, but one broke free and headed straight for Xander with surprising speed. Xander raised his sword in attack, and the demon immediately wrenched the weapon from his hands.

The young man felt a sharp pain in his side as the demon pushed him forward to his knees. "Oh, crap," he said aloud. "It stabbed me with my own sword. Typical." Xander fell on his side, moaning at the impact. From this vantage point, he could see the entire fight. Buffy was grappling with the other demon who'd managed to escape the Hellmouth before Willow closed it. Giles and Dawn were pulling Willow to her feet. The witch looked exhausted and could barely stand, even with their aid. And Spike was skewering Xander's attacker on Xander's sword. "Oh, good, Spike," Xander gasped. He wanted to say something funny, but he could barely breathe. He could hear a terrible rattling sound in his chest.

Spike knelt down beside Xander and took the younger man's hand in his own. "Don't try to talk, okay? You're gonna be fine. Doctor'll fix you right up." Spike lifted Xander into his arms as if he weighed nothing at all. Xander cried out in pain and closed his eyes. He could feel something warm and metallic welling up in his mouth that he really hoped wasn't blood.

"Xander, Xander! Open your eyes. Come on, look at me. Please. Xander, I'm so sorry I didn't get here in time. Xander, open your eyes!" Spike was calling his name, but he didn't think he'd answer. It seemed like too much effort.

"Buffy, fucking kill the thing already! Xander . . . Xander's dying. I don't think he can make it to a hospital." _Spike sounds like he's crying_, Xander thought distractedly. And then Xander's neck was wet with Spike's tears; they pooled in the hollow of his throat and soaked through the cotton of his shirt. _Hey_, he thought bleakly, _I really am going to go wrapped in vampirey-goodness_.

Xander could barely feel his body anymore; he felt as if he were floating above himself. He heard Dawn screaming, and then—nothing.

***

Xander opened his eyes. He was in his apartment, shirtless and tucked into bed. Spike was sitting on his own bed, watching Xander intently. The vampire had apparently been keeping vigil for some time; the floor was covered in cigarette butts.

"How d'you feel?" Spike asked.

"Like I let you convince me to play quarters again. Other than that, pretty okay, considering I'm not dead. Why am I not dead?" Xander sat up and examined his right side. Someone had bandaged a spot just below his ribcage.

"Willow healed you. Mostly, anyways. Red was too knackered after all that mojo to do a proper job of it."

"Where is everybody? Are they all okay?" Xander asked anxiously.

"Yeah. Whole lot's fine. Red's at the Watcher's recuperating. It was almost bloody impossible to get Rupert to leave you here with me. Should've seen his face when I called it our room." Xander smiled, pleased that Spike felt the same way about their living arrangements. "Dawn and Buffy are at school. They should be home soon."

"How long was I out?" Xander asked. He felt his side gingerly, but was relieved that the wound yielded little more than a small twinge of pain.

"Better part of a day. You missed "Passions" and everything." Spike sat on the bed beside him. "Xander, you came this close to dying. If I'd been just five seconds faster, none of this woulda happened. But that's what I do. Get there too late." Xander thought he saw tears in Spike's eyes. "I could feel you dying in my arms—your heartbeat slowing, your body growing cold. Knew I couldn't turn you. Didn't want to. Rather see you dead than . . ."

Xander interrupted him. "Spike, you did the right thing. You protected Willow so she could close the Hellmouth. Saving the world much more important than saving Xander. And anyway, I didn't die."

"No thanks to me," Spike said bitterly. "I thought I'd never get a chance to tell you how I feel. I would've last night in the cemetery, but the apocalypse bollixed that up. I wanted to tell you for so long, but I was afraid. Don't have such a good track record, ya know. Love's bitch and all."

"I think the near death experience has affected my hearing. What are you saying?" Xander asked.

"Are you daft, pet? I'm trying to tell you I love you, and you're bloody screwing it up!" Spike stood up agitatedly and paced to the other side of the room.

"You love me?" Xander repeated, stupidly. _I can't believe what Spike's saying. He must've hit his head. Or maybe he's possessed with the spirit of a mummy/mantis or some other Xander-is-so-irresistible-I-must-seduce-him-and-then-use-his-body-as-a-catalyst-for-Armageddon demon_. His amazement must have shown on his face because Spike laughed.

"Why's it so hard to believe, Xander? You're loyal, brave, funny, and your heart is too big for your own good. You may not have superpowers, but you're the glue what keeps the Scoobies together." Spike paused, then continued more seriously. "You took care of me, Xander; made me not broken. Ya know, you're the only fucking person on this sodding planet that ever told me my soul is amazing. Why d'you think I stayed here, all this time, sleeping in the same room with you, no less? Why d'you think I spend every bleeding minute in this flat? Even pretend to like that godawful "Super Milk Chan" just to sit beside you on the sofa?" Xander still didn't speak. His brain just couldn't process the information that Spike loved him back.

"But you love Buffy—with that Bryan Adams, ends-of-the-earth, As-You-Wish, play-it-again-Sam, oh-God-I-watch-too-much-TV kinda love."

"Yeah, I do love Buffy. In the way a bloke loves a dream that mighta been, or the ghost of some happiness past. But, the Slayer's all wrong for me; we're wrong for each other. She wouldn't stand in the darkness with me, and she wouldn't drag me into her light, weak as it was. You, Xander Harris, shine brightly enough for the both of us."

Xander's jaw dropped. _I can't be sure because of the not reading, but I think Spike is spouting poetry at me. Verdict's in. Definitely possessed_, he thought. But then he looked more closely at the vampire. Spike seemed vulnerable, open; his hands were white-knuckled, clutching the edge of the bed. _I want this so much_, he thought. _Please don't let it be a cosmic joke_.

Spike stopped pacing and crossed the room to stand in front of Xander. He leaned down toward the younger man. "If you still can't believe me," the vampire said, "believe this." Spike sat back down on the bed and pulled Xander to him. Xander closed his eyes as Spike slowly drew his tongue across the younger man's bottom lip. Xander shivered and opened his mouth as Spike deepened the kiss. Xander tangled his fingers in the curls at the nape of Spike's neck and pressed his body closer.

Spike left his mouth to trail wet kisses along Xander's jaw and down the side of his tanned neck. He moaned in the back of his throat when Spike gently bit him there. "I love you, too, Spike," he said raggedly. Xander lifted the bottom of Spike's shirt and tugged it impatiently over the vampire's head. Spike's chest was cool against his own bare flesh. Xander's mind raced—_I've never done this before. I mean, I've thought about it a lot since the naked-Spike-in-the-shower incident, and this should be weird, but it's not. It's Spike, and he loves me_. Xander began slowly outlining the contours of Spike's chest with his tongue, flicking one pink nipple into a hard bead and worrying it with his teeth.

"Not that I don't appreciate the enthusiasm, love, but somebody'll be coming to check on you soon."

Xander ran his hands down Spike's flat stomach, feeling the muscles tense under his palms. He leaned close and whispered in Spike's ear, "So—we'll lock the door."

"I'm trying to be the voice of reason here, Xander." Spike's voice caught as the younger man slid his hands teasingly under the waistband of his jeans. The vampire groaned, but stopped Xander from pushing him down on the bed. "I wanna do this right, pet. Not watching the clock or praying against interruptions." Spike leaned down again to capture Xander's lips in a kiss. _Oh, wow. Always pegged Spike for a wham-bam-thankyou-ma'am . . .er . . . sir kinda guy, but he's being so tender. And logical_.

"Alright, I can live with waiting. As long as it's not too long. I feel like we've done too much waiting already."

"Agreed, love." Spike grabbed his shirt from the bed and started to dress himself, but froze when he saw Giles and Willow standing in the doorway.

"Oh, right," Xander said. "Shoot down my locking the door idea, and see where that gets us."

***

_Ohmygod, Giles and Willow caught us. Caught me, almost doing IT with Spike. Ahhh, this is not good. Why are they not saying anything? Is . . . is Giles laughing? Giles is laughing! He is so laughing, behind that glasses polishing. Does he think we can't see him when he does that, just because he can't see us? Willow is not laughing. She is looking at the floor, shuddering in shame and revulsion . . . Oh wait. She's laughing, too?_

Xander noticed that Spike had settled back down on the bed beside him, one hand draped loosely across Xander's thigh, the other fishing for his cigarettes on the nightstand. The young man resisted the overwhelming urge to flee the room, and instead said the first thing that came to mind. "So, Master Vampire, you've got some 'splaining to do. Did ya leave all your Spidey senses back at the Hellmouth?"

Spike took a drag and leered at him suggestively. "No. I was just a bit . . . preoccupied, pet."

"Well, I believe we can assume that Xander has made a full recovery, Willow. Why don't we adjourn to the Magic Shop where I'm sure Spike and Xander will join us later this evening." Giles replaced his glasses and turned to leave the room.

"Wait a minute. That's it? My father figure and my best friend of all time catch me in the middle of a smoochathon with another guy, said guy being not so much guy as dead guy, and that's it? No interventions or scary displays of magic? Just the uncontrollable laughing?"

Giles sighed. "Xander, grow up. You might think your attraction to Spike was artfully concealed from the rest of the world, but you would be sorely mistaken. The both of you wear your hearts on your sleeves. I don't think you could keep your emotions a secret if you tried, Xander, and Spike seems to suffer from the same predicament. In addition, you both seem quite partial to soulful glances at the other's retreating backside."

"Even Buffy noticed after awhile, Xander." Willow laughed again at the incredulous looks from the men on the bed. "Okay, maybe Dawn clued her in . . ."

Spike interrupted, "The Niblet knows about me and Xander! And she told the Slayer! We didn't even know about it until just now, witch!" Spike clutched at Xander's hand at this unexpected news. "What does Buffy think?" he asked quietly.

"Buffy thinks it's weird, but good. She also has several speeches planned about your imminent demise should you ever hurt Xander, but those are really better coming from her." Willow's voice softened, and she said, "You and Buffy have a history, Spike, not all of it pleasant, but she . . . she told me she knows what it feels like to be loved by you and that Xander's a lucky guy."

Giles cleared his throat and took Willow by the elbow. "We'll be expecting you later tonight at the Magic Box." Before the pair turned to leave, Giles made one last comment. "I'm happy for the both of you. We all are."

Spike sat silently for long minutes after they'd gone. Xander knew this silence was a good one, so he just let it envelop them, sat back and made good friends with it. He had started to feel sleepy again when the hand draped across his thigh began to creep suggestively upwards. Xander sighed (yet again, but this time in pleasure) as their lips met in a continuation of the kiss they'd shared before.

_Oh my fucking God! Spike's hands are in my pants—which are now in several pieces across the room. Good. Terrible pants, getting in Spike's way like that and . . . he's. . . Oh Dear Lord! Why does my internal sex monologue sound like Giles? . . . but Oh Dear Lord, won't he have to breathe sometime soon? Oh right, undead, no breathing. I knew that . . . that. . . that. . oh fuck Spike fuck Spike fuckSpikefuckfuckfuck . . . .sigh. He's smirking that sexy Spike smirk, whispering love you in my ear and we're kissing again. My hands in his pants now and . . . thank God he went first because otherwise I'd be hiding in the bathroom about now indulging in some womanly feelings of inadequacy. Surely this is the penis in the DOES SIZE REALLY MATTER? emails in which, I am assured, size does really matter, the important detail being—any size but yours, Xander. But he's moaning and writhing—moaning my name—William the Bloody is clutching the back of my head and moaning XanderfuckXanderyesXander. And I love this man, and he loves me and I have done this to him. Torn this cry from his lips, this shudder from his body—ME! Kissing again. Kissing Spike so of the good. He tastes like me, which should be Ewww, but instead is so fucking hot. And, I do remember one phrase from Health Class—refractory period—which apparently doesn't apply to vampires because Spike is asking me to let him . . . and I'm scared, but mostly I want and . . . perfect . . . fucking perfect SpikeSpikedeepgaspneedwantlovefuckfuckohgodyesplease . . . I love you._

***  
Xander and Spike stood hand in hand before the Magic Box. Behind the window, Dawn and Buffy argued, both rolling their eyes at the other. Willow worked diligently at her crossword, and Giles watched them all with quiet, paternal amusement. He glanced up and took in the pair loitering on the sidewalk. The Watcher smiled at them, a smile that said, "Welcome—c'mon in."

Spike looked at Xander. "Shall we, love?"

"Yeah, Spike. Let's."


End file.
